


Epilogue Part II: Spring

by ellipeps



Series: Exercises in Free Love [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Smut, mentions of bullying, ugly language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipeps/pseuds/ellipeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goddammit, this wasn’t at all how the evening was supposed to go. They were supposed to just pop in for like an hour, and then have hot sex in a hotel room three floors up, and then probably have more hot sex, and then Dean would finally ask Castiel what he thinks about children. But of course the universe isn’t on Dean’s side; it never is, so now he can’t do any of that. </p>
<p>Should be read after Exercises in Free Love and Epilogue Part I: Winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue Part II: Spring

”Dean, come on, we’ll be late if you don’t hurry up! And it’s you who’s forcing me to go in the first place, on our goddamn anniversary,” Castiel shouts from the door, and Dean mutters incoherently. Yeah, sorry if one thinks that brushing one’s teeth is nice.

They’ve been married three years now, and Dean isn’t one to use cute words and shit, but it’s really domestic bliss. Even after three years. 1095 days where he’s woken up to Castiel wrapped around him every single morning, 1095 days of chuckling at muttering, sleepy before-coffee-Castiel, 1095 days of laughter and kisses and teasing. And 1095 days where his love for Castiel only has grown and grown and grown. He still can’t believe he’s missed out on eight years. That’s 2922 more days he could’ve spent loving Castiel. Not that he’s counted. Who does that?

A year after their small, private, church wedding, they moved to a house and leaving Dean’s, no their, old apartment behind. Dean doesn’t want to tell anyone why he insisted on getting a house when Castiel said that a bigger apartment would be just fine. Kids shouldn’t grow up in apartments. Their kids are going to have the picket-fence, apple-pie, soccer/baseball/hockey/whatever-life. Not that they’ve even discussed kids yet. Or well, Dean’s been trying to subtly hint that perhaps adoption would be nice. His husband is really smart and clever, but man, he really can’t take hints.

“Dean!” the smart-and-clever-but-not-being-able-to-take-a-hint-husband yells from the door, “I’m leaving without you!”

“No you’re not, you have no idea where the place is, Cas!” Dean yells back, after spitting out the last of his toothpaste, brushing some foam away from his chin with the back of his hand. He hears Castiel huffing in the hallway and he smiles. He shuffles out of the bathroom and struggles to put his shoes on, hurrying out to the porch to tie them there. He smiles apologetically. It usually works, even if his puppy face hasn’t reached Sam-or-Castiel levels yet.

“Sorry babe, but you know me, I-“

“Yes, Dean, it’s fine, I’m just nervous,” Castiel says and locks the door, trying the handle to check that it’s locked. He always does that. Dean hasn’t asked why, but he supposes it doesn’t matter why. It’s good to take precaution. Or something.

He looks up from his shoelaces with a soft expression, up at his husband who’s fiddling with the keys, avoiding eye-contact. Dean knows he’s nervous, hell, Dean himself is nervous. How could he not be? He’s going to come out to all his former friends and maybe even teachers, and he’s going to show off Castiel, his husband, the former bully-victim of said former friends. And himself. So of course he understands how Castiel feels, or well, at least part of it.

“Hey,” he says as he straightens up, one hand cupping Castiel’s face, “it’ll be fine angel, and if you don’t think so we’ll just leave, no big deal! And you know, Jo’s gonna be there, and she’ll bring Charlie. You have us. You have me.”

Castiel turns to look at him, and nods uncertainly as he bites his lip. God, in any other situation when he does that it drives Dean mad, but now he can’t think like that. Damn sex brain. Instead of defiling his husband and making them even later than they already are, he just intertwines their fingers and presses a swift kiss to Castiel’s forehead before leading the way to the car.

* * *

 

The drive is silent, the only sounds are the rhythmic rumbling of the Impala, soothing as always, and the tape playing silently (‘silent’ according to Dean, normal to anyone else). Dean knows when to give Castiel space, and when his husband zones out in the car and stares out the window for more than three consecutive minutes, he’s in his own world. So Dean just casts a few glances at the frown growing on Castiel’s face, but says nothing. Instead he puts one hand on Castiel’s leg, soothingly drawing circles with his thumb. Usually that’s all it takes. But today Castiel sighs and turns, shying away from Dean, resting his head against the window.

Alright, it’s one of those days. When Dean reminds Castiel of their teen years, and all that means. On those days Dean can do nothing but keep his distance. That works for like an hour. Then Dean comes and whispers that he loves him and then spends a couple of hours in the garage, before Castiel joins him. Those days usually end up with pretty hot sex. Not that their sex isn’t usually hot, no, the opposite really, if Dean can say so himself. Which he can. But on those days it’s desperate and needy and rough. And Dean loves that, having Castiel thrashing in bed, gripping so hard it’ll bruise, nails digging into soft flesh and mouth muttering obscene curses. He loves being pushed down and ravaged, taken, for once, and not being the more dominant one for a change.

When the suburbs turn into city, the buildings rising and the trees shrinking, he finds his pulse rising. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He really doesn’t want to meet with Raphael and Lucifer. Or Michael for that matter, even if Michael was the nicest of the douches. If there’s such a thing as a nice douche. Dean sure wasn’t one.

“Hey, babe, we’re here,” he says as he parks the Impala outside of one of the fancier hotels in Lawrence. He’s not really in his comfort zone to begin with, but it doesn’t exactly get better when he sees the guy at the door wearing smoking. And he’s just the door-guy. He works there. Working, in a smoking. Totally not Dean’s kind of place. But it’s one evening, he can work with that. You only have one ten year reunion after all.

Ten years. That’s a lot of time. People change, mature, yadda yadda. He’s heard it all before, and yeah sure people change, he has. But that doesn’t mean he expect them to have changed for the better. His old friends might have changed for the worse. If worse than how they used to be is possible.

Dean looks over at his husband, who is still staring out the window, still buckled up, and feels his heart clench. He knows Castiel isn’t mad with him anymore, but that doesn’t mean that he’s okay with meeting all four of his former bullies at once. Alright, three plus Dean. No, fair is fair. Four. No point in denying what happened.

“Cas?” he says softly, reaching out to place a soothing hand at the base of Castiel’s neck, fingers nestling in the soft hair, “do you-?”

“No, Dean, I can do this, I just need a minute,” Castiel interrupts, damn husband, always knowing what Dean says before he even says it, and leans into the touch of Dean’s hand, closing his eyes. He sits quietly, mumbling a silent prayer, before taking a deep breath and turning to Dean.

“Now, shall we?”

* * *

 

The place is packed, and Dean doesn’t recognize anyone at first. He holds Castiel’s hand, as much for his own sake as for Castiel’s, as he guides them across the huge room to the other side where he’s spotted a familiar red-head. Thank God that Charlie and Jo are there, he’d never be able to-

“Dean?” a voice from behind the red-head says and Dean looks around, confused. He finally finds the source of the sound when Michael steps out from behind Anna. Of course. Just his kind of luck, it’s not Charlie, it’s Anna. He feels Castiel shrink behind him and holds onto his hand tighter, not letting him run away.

“Hi, Michael,” Dean says weakly and holds out a hand for the other man to shake. Michael ignores the hand and goes in for a hug instead, but as Dean goes rigid under his touch he pulls away.

“Oh, I- I’m sorry, that was rude,” Michael apologizes and backs away, returning to where he stood beside Anna. Dean can’t help to notice the hand that falls into place at her waist, an action that seems so natural he must have done it for years. Kind of Dean and Castiel. Oh.

When Dean doesn’t say anything Michael shuffles awkwardly and takes a long sip from his glass of wine. He looks very sophisticated, very posh. Like he’s some surgeon from Seattle or something. Not that Dean would know anything about surgeons from Seattle…

“You remember Anna?” Michael finally says and looks from Dean to the woman by his side, eyes turning soft as they land on her. Dean nods and Anna smiles politely at him, but doesn’t say anything. Fair enough, Dean wasn’t really that kind to her either. He wasn’t kind to anyone in fact.

“Are you two married?” Dean asks, hating the suffocating silence that grows by the minute. He sucks at small talk, but that’s better than no talk.

“Yes, we got married two years after graduation, but I proposed on graduation night,” Michael says proudly and hugs Anna closer. Dean’s jaw drops and he stares at them disbelievingly. “I supposed you wouldn’t know, we kept it secret because I was a dick in high school and didn’t want to be seen with a nerd,” Michael continues, and Dean feels Castiel flinch behind him.

“Oh,” Dean says, “I know how you feel,” he takes a step back to reveal Castiel, who has been standing right behind him the whole time. He places one hand on Castiel’s lower back and ushers him forward a few steps.

“Castiel?” Anna asks and smiles, genuinely this time. Castiel stares at her and nods.

“Hello, Anna,” he mumbles, leaning into Dean’s touch, using it as a grounding force. Dean rubs a soothing circle with his thumb on the hand that’s still clinging to his. Dean looks over at Michael, and sees nothing but surprise. No disgust, no frowning, no mean comment waiting to roll off his tongue.

“Castiel, I was hoping you’d come tonight actually,” Michael says and suddenly looks nervous. Anna sends him a reassuring smile, and he nods, to himself and to her, “I wanted to apologize, I know that the way we treated you was horrible, and if I could go back I’d change everything, I- I’m sorry, Castiel, for everything.”

Now it’s Castiel’s jaw that drops, and he looks at Michael, then at Dean, then at Michael again. Dean can’t help but smile a bit, apparently people do get better.

“Thank you, Michael,” Castiel finally says sincerely, and shakes Michael’s hand. Dean can feel the tension running out through their handshake, dissolving the uncomfortable pressure hanging in the air above them. Dean looks around the room and spots a second red-head, this time a long with a blonde ponytail.

“Jo and Charlie are here,” he whispers to Castiel, leaning in close, just taking a moment to breathe in the familiar smell of Castiel, all books and sandalwood and ocean-like.

“I’ll go and find them, you stay here and catch up,” Castiel whispers back and smiles. Dean looks at him questioningly, but Castiel just nods and turns to walk away. Dean doesn’t let him get very far, he pulls him back and presses a soft kiss to his lips, as a silent ‘I love you’. Castiel chuckles quietly before turning to find their friends.

When Dean turns back to Michael and Anna they both look at him bemusedly, and he can’t help but ask, “what?”

“No, nothing, I’m just wondering, how long have you been in the honeymoon-phase?” Anna asks and Michael smiles into his glass, a poor attempt at hiding it.

“In the what-phase?” Dean asks and Anna laughs, looking at Michael, urging him to explain.

“The honeymoon-phase, when you’re newly married and can’t take your eyes of each other. Kind of like you and Castiel,” Michael explains, and Dean frowns. They act as newlyweds? Well, fair enough, he’s heard that since before they were married, so why not?

“We’ve been married three years, today actually” Dean says and Anna looks at him over the edge of her glass.

“Wow, that’s- three years? And you’re still in the honeymoon-phase? Nicely done,” Michael says and winks. Dean’s confusion is still growing. Why doesn’t his homophobic former friend say something? Is he just totally fine with this?

“I- Are you okay with this? Me and Cas I mean. I remember-“

“Dean, why wouldn’t I be okay with it? I was a douchebag, and so were you. Anna’s taught me a lot of things, that we shouldn’t judge people based on their sexual preferences among other things. Although, it kind of comes with my job too I suppose,” Michael says and smiles at his wife once again.

“Oh, cool. I mean, yeah, nice. So, what is the job exactly?”

“I’m a priest and Anna’s a pediatric nurse,” comes the answer and Dean nods, he remembers Michael’s family as very religious, and Anna was always kind, and extremely smart, “and how about you Dean, what do you-“ Michael continues but something behind Dean’s back distract him and he falls silent.

Dean studies Michael as his eyes narrow, his lips quirk disapprovingly and his grip tighten around his wife again. Dean remembers that look on Michael’s face. Most of the time it was directed towards Castiel or some other random kid that just happened to irritate them for some ungodly reason. Dean begins to turn around, to spot what Michael is frowning at, but then he feels a heavy arm over his shoulder and a breath smelling of bourbon hits him. He knows how it is without even having to check.

“Lucifer,” Michael confirms and nods courtly. Dean nestles out of Lucifer’s grip and steps away, eyes scanning the room for his husband, wishing he was further away from Lucifer. He remembers a conversation he and Castiel had about Castiel being beat up in alleyways after school by Dean’s friends. He can only guess who initiated those occasions, but a fair guess would be the man standing in front of him, smiling sloppily.

“Hey, Deano,” Lucifer slurs, “fancy seeing you here. You know, I haven’t heard a single thing about you since, let’s see, graduation,” he continues before turning to Michael, ugly smile growing wider at the sight of Anna, “and you Mike, you landed yourself a little nerd I see. Well, I always knew you were the weak one, right Dean?”

He takes it back, he takes it all back. People don’t change. They get worse, much, much worse. How could be so stupid as to think that this would go smoothly? Of course Lucifer would come and fuck it all up. He always has. And apparently he always will. Fucking idiot.

Michael and Anna stays silent, and so does Dean. Lucifer doesn’t seem to care, he keeps throwing out insults and catcalls and Dean’s nausea climbs further in his throat. He wants nothing more than just to go home and cuddle up with Castiel on the couch.

“Too bad about Ralphie, isn’t it?” Dean hears Lucifer say and his head snaps up. Right, Raphael, what happened to him? He hasn’t been here yet. And Dean’s heard nothing of him.

“What about him?” he asks, noticing the pained look on Michael’s face.

“You really are out of the loop,” Lucifer laughs, “he died Deano, a couple of years ago. Knifed in the street.” Lucifer laughs again. How can he laugh? Dean isn’t so hot on meeting Raphael, but he wouldn’t wish him dead. He’s learnt that lesson.

“Oh, I- uh, shit, I didn’t know,” Dean stutters, and looks over at Michael, who looks as if he’s blinking away a few treacherous tears, “were you still- I mean, did you-“

“Yeah, we met once a week for a beer,” Michael says quietly, “he had worked through some stuff and he was actually turning out fine, not the nicest of the bunch perhaps. He had just gotten married when it happened.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I-“ Dean begins, but is interrupted when Lucifer leans closer again and whispers in his ear.

“I always knew Harvelle was a gay bitch,” Lucifer stage whispers and Dean’s head snaps up to look for Jo, Charlie and Castiel. He spots them a few yards away, refilling their glasses.

“Luc-“ Michael warns, but Lucifer ignores him and continues his not-so-hushed whispering.

“And if it isn’t little Cassie there with them. Too bad he didn’t try killing himself again.”

The whole room is quiet when Lucifer finishes and Dean sees Castiel turn around slowly, fear visible in his handsome face. God, Dean is stupid. Why did he force Castiel to join him? Why, why, why did he think this was a great idea? And on this night of all nights. It should be their night.

As he sees Castiel’s face something flips in Dean, and he throws himself at Lucifer, hand raised in a fist, ready to throw the first blow. He’s stopped by a strong arm around his waist and as he struggles to get loose he sees Castiel burrow his face into Charlie’s shoulder, hiding from the world. Castiel shouldn’t feel the need to hide, to be ashamed or afraid. The fact that someone makes his husband feel terrible pushes Dean further and he tears himself away from the arm holding him back.

“He’s not worth it, Dean,” Michael whispers and pulls him off of Lucifer again, who’s giggling on the floor. Dean breathes heavily and nods. Yeah, sure he’s not worth it. He’s not worth jack shit as far as Dean’s concerned.

“You almost got me there, Deano. Have these ten years made you soft or what? Defending faggots and lesbians,” he snickers and grins evilly.

“I’m defending my husband you piece of shit,” Dean spits and walks away, curling one arm around said husband, guiding him through the room full of silent people. He looks over his shoulder, trying to signal to Jo and Charlie to come along. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Lucifer picking himself up, standing uncomfortably close to Jo. Lucifer leans forward to whisper something in her ear. The response he gets is probably not the one he’s expecting.

“Holy shit,” Lucifer gasps and sinks to his knees, hands covering his groin. Dean cringes, he’s seen men get the knee-in-groin treatment from Jo before, and it ain’t pretty.

“And that was me defending my girlfriend,” Jo says before grabbing hold of Charlie’s hand and pulling her away from the ruckus and towards Dean and Castiel. The whole room breaks out in applause and wolf whistles and Jo smiles faintly at Dean, shrugging, as if to say ‘it’s cool’. Dean looks over at Charlie, who looks like Jo is the coolest person she’s ever seen. Which is probably just what she’s thinking. That, mixed with some other things Dean prefers not to think about.

* * *

 

Back in the parking lot Dean finally lets out the breath he had been holding. He pulls Castiel even closer and buries his face in his neck, breathing in the familiar smell of home.

“I’m so sorry, Cas, we shouldn’t have- I-“ he mumbles but Castiel doesn’t answer, only nods slightly, “I love you, you know that right?” He pulls away only to be able to look Castiel in the eyes, seeking affirmation. Dean’s green eyes meet Castiel’s teary blue ones, and Castiel sniffles and nods.

Goddammit, this wasn’t at all how the evening was supposed to go. They were supposed to just pop in for like an hour, and then have hot sex in a hotel room three floors up, and then probably have more hot sex, and then Dean would finally ask Castiel what he thinks about children. But of course the universe isn’t on Dean’s side; it never is, so now he can’t do any of that.

He reaches out to dry the tears from Castiel’s cheeks and leans forward, resting his forehead against the shorter man’s. Dean closes his eyes and runs his thumbs over familiar cheekbones, sharing a familiar breath. He feels Castiel shiver and hugs him tighter, pressing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his nose.

“I promise, Cas, I won’t ever drag you along on something like this again, I- It was horrible, and that dickbag he-”

“Dean,” Castiel whispers, shutting him off effectively, “just shut up and take me home, please?” Castiel smiles faintly through his tears and Dean nods, pressing a desperate kiss to his husband’s lips. He draws a shaky breath before opening the door for Castiel, and then as the gentleman he is, closing it once his husband is safe inside.

* * *

 

Half an hour later the Impala is parked in their garage and Dean kills the engine, but he doesn’t move and he doesn’t talk. All in good time.

“It was very nice of Michael to apologize,” Castiel finally says and turns to look at Dean, who’s still sitting with his hands on the wheel.

“Yeah, he’s turned out okay, I guess,” Dean mumbles and scoots over, letting his thing press against Castiel’s. His husband responds to his action immediately and rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, hand tangling with Dean’s.

“Cas, I’m sorry about tonight, I had this whole thing planned, and I don’t know why I thought dragging you to this shit was a good idea, and now I’ve ruined our anniversary completely,” Dean says after a few minutes of silence.

He feels Castiel’s head turn to look at him, but he keeps his gaze locked on the interior on the dashboard. His husband nuzzles his neck and presses a soft kiss to his jawline before reaching up to whisper in Dean’s ear.

“The night is still young, Dean, so why don’t you tell me about your plans? And we’ll see if there’s something we can use,” he whispers and nibbles on Dean’s earlobe. Sparks runs along Dean’s spine and he tries to hold back a groan.

“Well, I- Hot sex was definitely a part of the plan, a lot of hot sex,” Dean begins and this time he can’t help but groan when Castiel mouths along his jawline, placing kisses down his neck as he’s climbing over to straddle Dean’s lap in the small space of the car.

“A-shit, and so was telling you that I- fuck, Cas, that I love you, again and again and again,” Dean stutters as Castiel begins to roll his hips and he nods approvingly, urging Dean to go on, “I had this whole speech, and I- fuck.”

“That’s the idea, yes,” Castiel teases and Dean chuckles, reaching up to capture his husbands lips with his own. He loses himself in Castiel far too easy, but then again, he should be used to it by now, it happens every time. He runs his hands over the still trench coat clad back and presses Castiel even closer, pouring all his love and apologies into the kiss.

“I-if that’s the plan, I think we need to find a bed pretty soon, babe,” Dean mumbles against Castiel’s lips and Castiel groans as he pulls away.

“Buzzkill,” he mutters and Dean laughs, pressing one last kiss to Castiel’s lips before opening the door to let them out.

* * *

 

They stumble to the bedroom, clothes shattered in the stairs and all over the floor, scorching kisses leaving more to be desired and Dean feels the tension build. He gets his husband naked and on the bed in less than three minutes, must be some kind of record. He loves having Castiel writhing beneath him, but today is not the day for foreplay and teasing; today they both need intimacy and that kind of movie-style achingly sweet lovemaking. Which Dean secretly loves more than rougher sex.

He leans down to frame Castiel’s head with his arms, and he presses a soothing kiss to Castiel’s pink lips. Castiel arches up against him, seeking contact, probably feeling the ache inside to feel skin on skin just as much as Dean does. Castiel wraps his legs around Dean’s waist and pulls him in close, brushing their erections together.

“Dean-“ Castiel breathes and nestles his fingers in Dean’s hair, pulling him down for another kiss. Dean licks into his husband’s mouth a few times before breaking the kiss, panting above him.

“I’ve been married to you,” he begins and as he talks he rolls his hips, their erections sliding together perfectly, “for 1095 days. 1095 days of loving you, 1095 days of calling you my husband, 1095 days of waking up with you. And yet I’ve never loved you more than I love you right now, Cas. I love you more for each day that passes. I love you 1095 times more than I did the day we got married. I can’t imagine life without you, Cas.”

Castiel gasps and rolls his hips to meet Dean’s, and Dean feels tears running down his cheeks. Really? He cried at their wedding, sure. But who doesn’t cry at weddings? Especially their own wedding. But crying during sex? Come on, that’s a new low.

“I- I love you too, Dean. You’re my wings and I’m yours, now and always,” Castiel whispers back and presses a series of kisses to all the places he can reach, Dean’s neck, Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s throat.

Dean feels Castiel’s hips stutter and he moans as he comes, Dean following close behind. He doesn’t move from where he’s resting on top of Castiel, and Castiel only hugs him tighter.

“So, were those all your plans, sex and telling me how much you love me, or did you have something more in mind?” Castiel asks after a while, smiling against Dean’s neck. Dean rolls off of Castiel, but curls up around him, pressing his back tightly against his chest, tangling their legs together.

“Well, to be honest I had planned for more hot sex, possibly shower sex. And perhaps sex on the kitchen table. And then some more sex. But to be honest, I don’t want anything else than this,” Dean answers, pressing a kiss to the back of Castiel’s neck. He pushes away thought about kids, another time perhaps. It’s not like they don’t have time.

“Me too, Dean,” Castiel mumbles around a yawn, “I love you.”

“Love you too babe,” Dean whispers, a warm feeling running through him as Castiel intertwines their fingers, “and happy anniversary.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally gotten around to finish this part! I hope you like it, I might come back and edit it, but right now I'm all out of ideas for this particular work. Kudos and comments?


End file.
